To Know With Your Heart
by Raven Ki-Lin
Summary: When Joe and Catherine are injured during a shootout, Vincent and the tunnel dwellers must help them. But as Joe recovers from him wound, he finds his body isn't the only thing that is being healed. - corrects formatting problems with original posting
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** **TO KNOW WITH YOUR HEART**

**Characters/Pairings:** Catherine/Vincent  
**Rating:** K+  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Minor violence.  
**Summary:** When Joe and Catherine are injured during a shootout, Vincent and the tunnel dwellers must help them. But as Joe recovers from him wound, he finds his body isn't the only thing that is being healed.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything, anyone or anyplace.

**A/N:** Thank you for the heads-up regarding the division between scenes. Originally, there were lines of asterisks. For some reason, transferring from one version of Word to another and then uploading, the little stars disappeared. I have put in new breaks (C-V-C-V) and reloaded the chapters. Sorry for the inconvenience.

And regarding those who commented on Catherine's explanation to Joe about Below: have you never heard yourself explaining a situation to someone using words you must constantly hear to believe? I always assumed Catherine knew exactly why she couldn't live below but needed to hear the words from Vincent from time to time in order to accept them. I hope you consider that scene as maturity and wisdom, not so much an out-of-character anomaly. But if it does jar you as too OOC, I hope you can overlook it and still enjoy the story.

**Chapter 1**

Catherine ducked as another bullet whined above her head.

"Stay down, Cathy!"

Her boss, Deputy District Attorney Joseph Maxwell, moved closer to her. Catherine Chandler gave him a shaky smile.

"When you said we'd finish this tonight, this isn't quite what I'd pictured, Joe."

"Really!"

They were silent as they returned gunfire in the dark warehouse.

"Can you see them?" Joe asked.

"No, but ..." another bullet sounded, hitting the wall just over their heads. "... but I think they're still there."

"I believe so," he agreed.

He looked at her. His boyish good looks were slightly strained. His dark hair was tousled. The normally bright and animated brown eyes were sober.

"Radcliffe ... I don't know if I'm going to be able to get you out of this," he said, all banter gone from his voice.

She looked at him solemnly. "I know," she answered quietly. "I just want you to ..."

A bullet smashed through one of the boxes they were using to hide behind. Joe grabbed his upper arm, fell backwards and bit off a cry.

"Joe!" Catherine knelt beside him.

"I'm ... okay. It's not too serious."

Catherine helped Joe back to his feet.

"We have got to get out of here," she insisted.

Before he could reply, there was a crashing sound and an animal-like roar.

"What on earth ...!" Joe exclaimed.

Joe and Catherine cautiously looked around the stack of boxes. At the far end of the building, in dim light that filtered through the filthy windows, they could make out a large form that had picked up one of the gunmen and was savagely slashing at him. The growling noise was coming from the strange figure.

"No," Catherine struck Joe's gun hand as he aimed at the new figure.

He stared at her in surprise. "Do you see what he's doing?" he demanded.

"Yes ... He's saving our lives."

Joe peered through the dark shadows again as Catherine's words registered.

"You're right," he said in amazement.

The pair continued to watch as the figure threw the second gunman against the side of the building. He turned toward the final gunman. The gunman leveled a gun at the figure and fired at almost point blank range.

"No!" Catherine screamed and jumped from behind the boxes. She began to run toward the large figure as it sank slowly to its knees.

The gunman turned at the sound of Catherine's voice and fired at her as she ran across the warehouse. Joe had started after Catherine. When the gunman fired, Joe stopped, aimed and pulled the trigger. The gunman dropped. Joe stared in horror at Catherine. She turned back toward him. Blood streamed down the side of her face, matting her light brown hair, covering one eye.

"Help … him …" she whispered.

She turned back to the strange figure as he fell forward to rest on hands and knees, his head hanging down. The dirty moonlight reflected on his tawny mane-like hair. She took another step toward him.

"No," she cried out softly, and then pitched forward to land face down on the floor.

In a daze, Joe ran across to Catherine.

"Radcliffe? Cathy! Please be all right."

Gently he rolled her over. She moaned as Joe moved her. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Cathy!"

She blinked her eyes as if trying to focus on his face.

"Vincent?"

"No, Cathy. It's me – Joe.

Joe took his handkerchief and tried to wipe some of the blood from Catherine's face.

"I feel... I think ..." her voice tapered off as she fainted.

Joe laid her down on the floor. He pulled his jacket off and covered her. Before he could decide what else he could do to help her, he heard a rumbling noise coming from the other side of the room.

There was a deep snarl. Joe stood up and looked around. He watched in amazement as the man who had saved them rose laboriously to his feet. Painfully he moved closer to Joe. Joe quickly took in the stranger's clothes. They resembled Joe's idea of what Middle Ages peasant might wear. He stared at the long, flowing mane-like hair and the leonine features of the face.

"What the ... hell?" Joe exclaimed. "Who ... who are you? What do you want?"

"I mean you no harm. I am here to help you."

"Then why are you wearing a mask?"

"I wear no mask."

"Then ... what are you? Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Catherine's. Please ... hand her to me. We must leave here."

Joe looked up at the large figure that stood over him by several inches. The stranger's broad shoulders and barrel chest made him appear massive. Joe stared at him defiantly.

"No way. I have no idea who you are."

Joe backed up as Vincent moved closer. He stood firmly between Catherine and Vincent.

"I'm warning you ... You stay away from her!"

Vincent stopped. "I assure you, Mr. Maxwell. I mean you no harm. I am here to help. Please ... You must trust me. I … I need your help."

"Why should I trust you? I don't have any idea who you are."

"I've told you ... I am a friend of Catherine's. My name is Vincent."

"Vincent?" Joe asked sharply. "She was asking for you before she fainted.

"I know."

There were the sounds of a car screeching to a halt, car doors opening, and men running around the warehouse.

"Please, Mr. Maxwell. You must trust me. We have no time to waste."

"How do you know my name?"

"Catherine has talked of you often. She thinks a great deal of you."

Catherine moaned softly and lulled her head from side-to-side.

"Vincent," she whispered.

At the sound of Catherine's voice, Vincent pushed past Joe and knelt beside her. He took hold of one of her hands.

"Catherine? Can you hear me?"

Her only response was another low moan.

With great difficulty, Vincent forced himself to his feet so he could face Joe again.

"There are other gunmen. They'll be here in a moment. You must help me save Catherine."

Joe stared into the deep-set, azure eyes as if he could read Vincent's thoughts.

"I've seen your cape before. Cathy was wrapped up in it that night at Stony Point," Joe said evenly.

Vincent bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Joe made up his mind. He moved past Vincent and bent to pick up Catherine. Vincent reached out to steady Joe as he rose to his feet. Vincent held out his arms. Joe hesitated a brief moment before transferring Catherine into the waiting arms.

"This way," Vincent told Joe, motioning his head toward the back of the warehouse.

The men carried Catherine into a small back office. There was an open trap door. They maneuvered down a ladder, pulling the door shut after them. They descended into a room that was four foot cube. Vincent touched a brick with one foot.

"Lift this brick," he instructed.

Joe did so. The seemingly solid brick floor actually covered another trap door. They moved through this door also and continued down the brick chimney-like shaft. Joe felt like they had climbed down several stories when they reached the end of the ladder. They stood in another four foot square room. Three of the walls were brick. But the fourth was steel. Vincent touched a brick beside the steel and the 'wall' slid open. Vincent went through the doorway and waited for Joe to follow.

Joe found himself in an entrance to the tunnel world. He looked around at the tunnel that had been hewn out of solid rock. He had only a moment. Vincent was moving down the tunnel with long powerful strides. Joe glanced quickly around once again and then hurried after the disappearing figure.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

"Leave me alone!" Vincent barked at the older man who was trying to press a bandage to his shoulder wound.

"Vincent, you are bleeding badly," the man stated.

"I will be all right. Take care of Catherine."

The older man sighed. "I assure you ... she _is_ being cared for. Now let me look at your shoulder."

Vincent pulled angrily away from the man's ministrations. The man turned to Joe. He spread his arm slightly and shrugged.

"Mr. Maxwell, will you allow me to care for you?"

"I agree with," Joe waved in Vincent's direction, "him. Catherine should be cared for first."

"She only has a graze on her temple. I've cleaned it and Mary is bandaging it. There is truly nothing else she needs. You two, however, both have bullet wounds that need treatment. I don't care which of you is first. Nor do I particularly care if I have to wait for both of you to pass out from loss of blood. It's the middle of the night ... I'm tired ... and if either one of you wish to be helped tonight, I suggest one of you get on that table immediately," he said in a cultured, lecturing fashion – as one would talk to errant school boys.

Joe and Vincent looked at each other. Joe nodded to Vincent

"Mine's clean – the bullet went through. You need to have that bullet removed. Go ahead," he said.

Vincent hesitated.

"Oh, Vincent, for heaven's sake!" the man exclaimed in complete exasperation.

Joe grinned as Vincent moved doggedly to the examining table. He looked around the hospital chamber. He was still trying to decide if this subterranean labyrinth of rock and strange characters were reality or a hallucination caused by his wound. He watched as the older man, who had been introduced as Father, worked on Vincent's shoulder. Vincent was a hallucination. Joe was sure of that. There could be no other explanation. The strange half-beast, half-man with the soft crooning voice could only exist in the imagination. Joe had not known he could be so creative.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe sat in a high backed chair and took in his surroundings. The chamber was the size of a large room. Bookcases, sideboards, and dressers lined three of the walls. These items were stacked with bric-a-brac of all types and description. There was statue in a slight indentation of the rock wall. Behind the bed was a small alcove. A short bookcase stood between the bed and the chamber wall. Above the bookcase was a Tiffany window done in yellows, shaped in a half circle. Some light came from an electric light behind the decorative window, but most of the light in the chamber come from dozens of candles that sat everywhere – candles of every size and shape, being held by a diverse assortment of holders.

He sat with his arm in a sling, reading from one of the myriad books that cluttered the few areas in the chamber not already taken by the knickknacks. Joe kept vigil as Catherine slept peaceably. The bed, like the chair Joe was using, was large – like every thing Joe had been able to learn about Vincent.

Catherine lay in Vincent's chamber because Vincent had insisted she would be more comfortable in his chamber than in the hospital chamber. Joe was sitting, watching over her because Vincent had "suggested" it. In Joe's short time Below, he had learned that, at least where Catherine was concerned, Vincent's slightest wish was an irreversible dictum.

Joe's attention focused on Catherine as she moaned softly. He moved to the side of the bed.

"Cathy? Can you hear me?"

"Vincent?"

"No, honey, it's Joe."

She grasped his hand tightly in hers.

"Joe? Where … I thought …" She turned her head to look around the chamber. "But … Vincent …" She took a deep breath. "Where am I?"

"His chamber," Joe answered.

She turned back toward Joe, but her eyes did not meet his. She gazed past him, over his shoulder. He felt her begin to tremble violently.

"Vincent?"

"Cathy? What is it?"

"Vincent!" she cried.

"Catherine!" the amazing voice Joe had come to recognize sounded just outside the chamber. Vincent's presence filled the chamber even before he entered. Joe felt himself brushed firmly but gently aside by the massive form that surged to Catherine's side.

"I'm here, Catherine," he said.

Her arms flew around Vincent's neck. She buried her face in his neck and began to sob. His hands stroked her hair. Joe stared at the fur covered hands.

Father entered the chamber. "Vincent? Is she all right?"

"No," came the curt reply. "Catherine?" he questioned gently. "I can only feel ... your fear. Tell me."

She pulled away from him slightly. Her hands came up to his face. Tenderly they moved over the leonine features. Another sob escaped Catherine's lips as her hands moved more frantically over Vincent's face.

"Your face!" she cried. "I can't see your face!"

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe sat in the main chamber, studying the unusual room. There were several short stairways that connected various mezzanine-style rock shelves that gave the chamber a multi-level appearance. There were also many little alcoves that made the chamber look even more interesting. There was a half floor over one section of the main chamber. A wrought iron spiral staircase led up to this area. From where Joe sat, it looked like a small library. But then the whole chamber looked like a library run amuck.

Stacks of books were everywhere. There were several bookcases and a number of shelves, but they did not begin to contain the hundreds and hundreds of books that were scattered on every available surface. There were stacks of books on the floor, leaning against the walls, and piled on top of the bookcases until it seemed impossible that they did not fall. As with Vincent's chamber, the primary source of light came from candles. The candles sat precariously between, beside and on top of the books.

Only the very center of the main part of the chamber was clear of books. A rug covered the floor. There was a dining table stacked with books and a chess board surrounded by a few straight back chairs. Father's desk and favorite chair sat at the edge of the rug. Three other arm chairs were also along the rug's perimeter.

Vincent's pacing interrupted Joe's inspection. Vincent strode from side to side of the rug covered area. The strong, quick steps only emphasized Vincent's resemblance to a lion. Vincent reached the rug's edge and turned to cross the room again. As he looked across the chamber, his eyes met Joe's. For a long moment the two men regarded each other in silence. Slowly Vincent crossed the chamber and sat down across the table from Joe.

"I believe, Mr. Maxwell ... we have a conversation that is … overdue."

Joe nodded quietly. "I don't know where to start. What to ask first." He chuckled. "That's not a good thing for a prosecutor to admit."

Vincent smiled.

Before either could continue, Father entered the chamber. Joe and Vincent both rose to their feet. The two men watched him walk down the steps and across the floor. His grizzled hair and beard were, as always, neatly groomed. But his eyes and face showed the strain he had been under caring for the three wounded people. He moved slowly across the floor, his limp more pronounced because he was so tired. He slumped into the chair behind his desk.

"Well?" Vincent demanded impatiently.

"I believe she will be all right," Father answered.

"All right? She's blind!" Vincent roared.

"Temporarily I'm almost sure."

"Almost?" Joe questioned.

Father looked from one man the other.

"Catherine was grazed along the temple. The swelling from the wound must be pressing against the optic nerve. In a few days, when the swelling has reduced, her eyesight should return. There's no other reason for her blindness."

Joe and Vincent turned to look at each other. Slowly Joe turned back to Father.

"Can I see her?"

"I've heavily sedated her. She's probably asleep," Father replied.

"She's awake," Vincent stated.

"How do you know?" Joe asked.

"I can feel it," he replied simply and turned to leave.

Joe watched him leave the chamber, turned to look at Father, and then hurried after Vincent.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe watched from the entrance to Vincent's chamber as Vincent sat on the edge of the bed. He watched as Vincent's large paw-like hand closed in gentle protection around Catherine's slim, smooth one. Her lips curled into a soft smile.

"Vincent," she whispered.

He bent to nuzzle his lips against her hair.

"I'm worried about Joe."

Vincent looked over his shoulder and smiled at Joe.

"He's here," Vincent said softly.

Joe crossed to the bed as Vincent rose to his feet. Tenderly he placed Catherine's hand in Joe's.

"Vincent," her voice held a touch of panic. "I need you near me."

"I won't leave," he promised

Joe squeezed her hand.

"Joe, are you all right?" she asked.

"I will be – a minor bullet wound – major culture shock. Nothing to worry about," he assured her. "How do you feel?"

She shrugged. "Very little … I don't know what Father gave me … but I'm a little … numb."

She reached her other hand out to Joe. He took it.

"Joe … the tunnels … the people … Vincent … I had to keep the … most important things in my life … secret … even from you. But now …" she paused. "Vincent, will you do … something for me?"

"You know that I would do … _anything_ for you."

"I'd like Joe to know about us … about the community. Will you show him?"

Vincent hesitated.

"If this is as big a part of Cathy's life as I think it is, I'd like to know," Joe stated.

"I will need your promise, Mr. Maxwell … a promise of absolute secrecy … for everything you'll learn."

Joe grinned. "Call me Joe and you have it."

Vincent nodded and shook the hand that Joe extended to him.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

"May we enter?"

Joe looked up from the book he was reading.

"Vincent? Sure."

Vincent and a teenager entered the guest chamber where Joe had been installed. The teenager looked as if he could have easily been Joe's son, the same good looking Italian features. Like everyone else Joe had seen so far, he was dressed in a 'middle-earth' style. Joe was beginning to feel a bit like a hobbit.

"Zach," Vincent said softly, "this is Mr. Maxwell. He's a friend of Catherine." Vincent turned toward Joe. "I've asked Zach to … show you around the community."

Joe looked slightly disappointed. "I thought you might do that."

Vincent shook his head slightly. "I cannot leave Catherine. Zach will guide you … and then we'll talk."

"Is Cathy worse? Is that why you can't leave her?"

Vincent smiled slightly. "No … she's as well as can be expected. It's her ... fear ... that requires my presence. I will not leave her … alone in her darkness."

Joe nodded.

Vincent patted Zach's shoulder. "Zach has grown up Below. He knows the community well. I've told him those I'd like you to meet. I will leave you two now." He turned to the boy. "Start with Elizabeth."

"Sure," Zach acknowledged.

As Vincent left the chamber, Zach and Joe turned to look at each other. After a long moment, Zach gestured for Joe to follow him.

"Come on. Let's get started."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Zach stood back, holding a lantern high so Joe could see the painting on the walls of the tunnels. They were high in the tunnels in an area where the stone walls had been finished to resemble cement walls.

The first few minutes, Joe had commented on the various scenes that had been painted on the walls. But gradually he became overwhelmed as scene after scene after scene of life Above and Below unfolded before him. There were portraits of various people – some Joe had already seen Below, some who were still unknown to him. There were pictures of people who lived Below but were involved in functions Above.

They slowed before a picture of Father and an infant Vincent. Joe turned to Zach.

"Has he always been like this?"

Zach nodded.

"Why?"

The boy shrugged. "No one knows. He was found Above – deserted – a few hours old. He was brought Below. Father raised him.

"But what ... did this to him? How did he … why is he …?"

Zach shrugged again. "He's Vincent. That's the way he is."

The boy seemed to scrutinize Joe.

"I've heard that you Topsiders are like this."

"Like what?" Joe asked.

"Always wanting to know how and why so you can change … things … people. That you can't accept people as they are."

"Things aren't like that down here?"

Zach made a snorting sound. "That's why a lot of people have come down here. The Topsiders wouldn't accept them for who they are – for the talents they had."

"Haven't you ever been Above?"

"Sure I've been Above. We aren't prisoners here. I just have never wanted to stay Above. It's ... different."

After a pause, they continued along the underground gallery. They came to the end of the paintings and Zach pointed to another tunnel that branched off to the side.

"This is where Elizabeth's working now," he said and led Joe into the new tunnel.

The scenes here were slightly different. There was a greater blending of Below and Above. Joe stared at an artist's rendering of what the Burch Tower would have looked like had it had been built.

"What did this have to do with down here?" Joe questioned.

"That thing," Zach replied, "almost destroyed our world when they started blasting for the foundation."

"Oh," Joe said thoughtfully.

They continued. A few feet further a scene of Vincent dominated. His fangs were exposed as he snarled at the man he held by the throat in his powerful hand. The other massive appendage was raised, fingers curled, as the claws prepared to deliver a savage blow. His black cape billowed behind him and his long, tawny mane was in disarray, giving the appearance of a mythological avenger. Flames filled the background.

Joe spun around to face Zach. "Is he like this often?" he demanded.

Zach stared at Joe with obvious hostility. "This shows what happened when Vincent had to rescue Catherine from Paracelsus. A member of the tunnels was killed. Catherine almost died, too."

Joe looked apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to criticize. I just don't understand about him."

Zach gave Joe a look that showed he found Joe's lack of knowledge hard to comprehend. Joe broke eye contact and turned to continue along the wall of paintings.

Another few feet and Joe saw Vincent and Catherine. This Vincent was the opposite of the warrior of the earlier scene. This Vincent was an enchanted prince, dressed in a ruffled linen shirt, a cravat under his chin and thigh-high leather boots. He looked like a character that had stepped out of a faerie tale three centuries earlier. And there could be no doubt that Catherine was his princess. She wore a long, old fashioned gown that bared her shoulders. She stood in the circle of his arms, staring into his eyes. The artist had captured a look of total love and adoration passing between the two. Joe could simply stand and stare with open mouth at the two lovers.

"Ah, you like the heart and soul of our community," stated a soft voice.

Joe turned to look at an elderly woman. She was petite with white hair and dark sparkling eyes. Her smile was brilliant.

"Wha … I don't understand …" Joe stammered still dazed by the unexpected image that he had been viewing – an image that burned deeply into his thoughts and feelings.

"Vincent and his Catherine: Vincent has been the soul of our community – almost since the day he arrived. And when he brought his Catherine Below – then we found our heart."

"Elizabeth, this is Joe Maxwell. He's …"

"Oh, Catherine's friend," Elizabeth interrupted Zach. "Then you know about her."

"About her," Joe admitted, "but not about this." He waved his arm to encompass the painted walls.

Elizabeth shrugged. "It's just the way I see things."

Joe looked from Zach to Elizabeth and back again. He shook his head.

"I thought this trip was suppose to help me understand. I'm more confused than ever!"

Elizabeth chuckled. "Better keep him away from Narcissa."

Zach laughed.

"Who's Narcissa?" Joe asked.

"A voodoo sorceress," Zach explained.

Joe laughed. "You're right, Elizabeth. I am _definitely_ not ready for that. Thank you for sharing your work with me." He turned to Zach. "Now what?

"Vincent told me you still need a lot of rest. I'll take you back to the guest chamber. We'll see more tomorrow."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe entered the main chamber

"Ah, Mr. Maxwell," Father greeted him. "Please join me. I was just preparing to have some dinner. I thought I'd have to eat alone."

"Where's Vincent?"

Father gave a small chuckle. "Obviously you haven't learned much about my son yet."

Joe smiled as he came down the few steps to the main level of the chamber. "With Cathy?"

Father nodded. He rose from behind his desk. As he crossed to the table he motioned for Joe to sit down.

"Kipper!" Father yelled for his runner.

A young boy appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Kipper, will you ask Mary to bring Mr. Maxwell's dinner in here with mine?"

Sure, Father," came the quick answer as the boy disappeared down a tunnel.

"I think Joe's more appropriate than Mr. Maxwell," Joe stated.

Father smiled and nodded slightly. The two men regarded each other for a few moments.

"Will you answer some questions for me?" Joe asked.

"If I'm able."

"Why are you down here?"

Father sighed deeply. "That is a … long story. I was a victim of your judicial system. Afterwards, I was very bitter. I'd lost my professional standing … my home … my wife … my reasons for living." There was a long pause before he started again. "A woman told me of this place. I came down here to live … to just exist really. Even the birth of my son didn't restore my spirit. Even the work of helping to establish this community didn't restore my enthusiasm."

Joe shook his head. "You're an active, vital man. What changed you?"

Father looked wistfully for a long moment and then smiled slightly. "It's a favorite story of the children. About a bitter cold January night and a baby, wrapped in rags, thrown into the garbage close to St. Vincent's Hospital." There was another long pause as Father relived the moment he was about to make known to Joe. "When the rags were removed … at first I was horrified. Not only by the emaciated little body but by the knowledge of what could happen to this child if he were Above. And then … small, trusting eyes opened. I looked into the most azure eyes I'd ever seen. And, suddenly, I had a reason to continue. I knew that if this community was not built … was not based on a higher order then the one that ruled Above … if this community did not survive … then neither would he. The others recognized it also … and we found the strength … and the determination … to overcome our differences and the obstacles that we faced. We found the …" He paused as he searched for the word.

"Elizabeth called him the soul of the community," Joe supplied the word softly.

Father nodded. "Yes."

After a moment Joe looked into Father's eyes. "And she called Cathy the heart. Now I understand what she meant about him but not about her."

Father sighed. "In order to understand, you need to understand about Vincent's life before. And even I cannot tell you the entire truth of that – the extent of his aloneness before Catherine."

Joe nodded.

Before either could speak again, Mary came in carrying a tray with two dinners on it. She set the tray down and began to fuss around the table, setting up the dinners. Joe watched her as she moved around the table. She was approximately Father's age. Her hair was an equal mix of gold and silver. She had obviously been a great beauty once, and she was still a very handsome woman.

"Let me help," Joe offered.

Father chuckled as he waved Joe back into his chair.

"No, no, let her be. Her only delights in life are caring for the children … and fidgeting around me."

"Father!" Mary reproached him gently and then hurried out of the chamber.

Father chuckled again, stared fondly at her retreating back, and then he turned back to Joe.

"Eat your dinner. And afterwards … do you play chess?

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe was just finishing his breakfast the next morning when Zach appeared in the entrance of his chamber.

"Are you ready to go?" Zach asked.

"I guess – where to?"

"Vincent wants you to talk to Mary."

"Mary? I think I met her last night," Joe said.

"Probably. She sort of takes care of Father."

Joe smiled thoughtfully. "You mean her and Father are …?"

Zach laughed. "Well … not like Vincent and Catherine … but …" he shrugged.

The two continued through several twists and turns of the tunnels until they entered a relatively large chamber. Mary was walking around the chamber laying out paper and pencils in front of various cushions and chairs. She looked up and smiled as Zach and Joe entered.

"Ah, Mr. Maxwell, please come in," she greeted him. "Thank you, Zach."

He gave a brief wave of his hand. "I'll be back after class."

Joe turned to stare after him.

"Class?" he questioned as he turned back to Mary.

"Yes. All of the children have classes all morning."

"What kind of classes?"

She shrugged. "It depends. This is a math class for the smaller children. I believe Zach's scheduled for a literature class now."

He shook his head. "But what kind of education can they get down here?"

She smiled broadly. "Much better than you obviously think. Our children have a very thorough knowledge of math, science, classical and contemporary literature, and ethics. Much better than they'd get Above – I know."

"May I ask how?"

Her face clouded over with a remembered pain. "I had children – my own children – long ago – Above."

Joe reached out to pat her hand. "You lost them?"

She nodded. "They were killed … an accident."

She stopped and gazed into the past for a long moment. Then she looked into Joe's eyes and smiled again.

"But now I have other children. Children that no one else wants. Children who have no one else to care for them."

"And you take care of them?"

"The community takes care of them, yes."

"You mean that all of the children Below are … community property?"

She laughed. "No, not exactly. There are family units here Below. But this is also a sanctuary for those who are not wanted Above. The homeless children that make their way down here are cared for by all of us. But that special time – what they now are calling quality time – Father and I try to provide that for them. And he's there for any of them – really anyone in the whole community – whenever they need him."

"How large is the community?"

Mary looked a bit hesitant. After a moment she replied.

"I don't believe that I should answer that question. Even though you've been accepted as a friend of Catherine's, our laws are very strict about our safety and security. Until the Council accepts you, there are some things that must remain hidden."

Before there could be another question, there were voices in the tunnel and children ranging in age from about 5 to around l0 years began to file in and find seats. They sat down and stared at Joe with unadulterated curiosity. After the surprise of their openness, he found their frank scrutiny refreshing.

When the children had all taken their seats, Mary introduced them to Joe. Before she could start the class, several of the children raised their hand.

"Yes, Samantha," Mary acknowledged one of the girls.

"Mr. Maxwell, why did you let Catherine get hurt?"

Joe blinked, slightly stunned by the question. He grinned at the precocious brown eyes that stared at him. It was obvious that she was not being flippant but was honestly seeking information.

"I didn't mean to allow her to be hurt. If I could've prevented it, I would've."

Mary turned to one of the boys. "Geoffrey?"

"Why have you stayed Below?"

"Well, Geoffrey," Joe answered, "first, I haven't been given the option of leaving. Second, I want to stay with Cathy until I know she's going to be all right."

"Her name is Catherine," another voice spoke.

Joe looked at one of the older looking boys.

"Eric, don't be rude," Mary ordered gently. "If Catherine has decided to allow Mr. Maxwell to call her Cathy, that is not our concern."

Several children again raised their hands.

"Thomas," Mary called on one.

"Did you know about us? I mean before?"

Joe shook his head. "No, I didn't. I knew that there was something in Cathy's … ah, Catherine's," he gave a brief nod in Eric's direction, "life that she kept secret. But I had no idea it was anything like this place."

"Jessica," Mary called on the next child.

"Are you going to be a Helper?"

"I'm sorry," Joe replied. "I don't understand what you mean."

"That's enough questions," Mary interrupted before anyone could say anything else. "We need to get started on our lesson for today."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Joe and Zach walked slowly back towards the guest chamber Joe was using.

"I'd like to talk to Vincent," Joe said thoughtfully.

Zach stopped and turned to face him. "You can't right now. There was a problem with one of the shield doors at an entrance a lot of the Helpers use. He had to go fix it."

"Can I talk to Cathy then?"

"Okay, if she feels like it." He pointed down a tunnel that branched off the one they were in. "It's quicker this way."

The two moved along the tunnel a few minutes until it forked in two directions. Zach pointed down the one that turned to the left.

"You go this way. The first entrance goes to Father's main chamber. The second entrance will take you to Vincent's chamber. I have to go."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Zach laughed. "Yeah … Vincent won't let me off the hook after just two visits."

Joe laughed, too, as Zach turned and hurried away down the tunnel. Joe moved along the tunnel Zach had indicated. He had gone just a few feet when he heard Vincent's voice raised in anger. He hurried to the entrance of the chamber and surveyed the scene before him.

Catherine was lying on the bed, in obvious pain. Father sat on the edge of the bed, bandaging her right wrist. Vincent stood before an attractive young blonde who stood with her head lowered, tears streaming down her face.

"Was my request too difficult?" Vincent grumbled.

"I am so sorry, Vincent," the girl sobbed. "She was asleep. I only ran to get a cup of coffee – for just a minute!"

"If you could not handle the request, you should not have assumed the responsibility!" came the tart reply.

Joe was surprised to hear that the normally gentle voice was raised in anger. But what astonished him most, was the fact that the words were only partially verbal. The words had a decidedly animal-like snarl to them. A further shock was that, while the young woman was obviously upset by his anger, she was not afraid.

Father finished the bandaging and patted Catherine's shoulder.

"I know you're in pain. I have only a heavy narcotic in my bag. I'll go to the hospital chamber and send something to you that's more appropriate."

Father looked at Vincent and the woman. He sighed.

"I'll take care of it," Catherine said softly.

Father rose and left the chamber, nodding to Joe as he passed.

"Vincent."

Catherine's soft voice cut through Vincent's angry tone. In an instant he was kneeling beside the bed. Blindly she reached out her hand. He caught it immediately between his two immense hands.

"You're in pain," he stated almost as if he were the injured one.

"A little," she admitted.

"And upset," he added.

She nodded. "Yes. Some herbal tea would help. You're the only one who can make it just the way I like it. Would you please fix me some?"

"Of course," he answered. These words were almost a purr.

He let go of her hand and surged to his feet. He rushed from the chamber, brushing past Joe as if he did not exist.

"Catherine, I am so sorry," the young woman sobbed.

"Rebecca!" Catherine held out her arms.

Rebecca hurried across the room and the two women embraced.

"It was my fault," Catherine asserted firmly. "When I woke up, by myself, I should've known that someone would be here in a minute … or I should've called out. I knew that I wouldn't be left alone."

"But I promised Vincent I'd stay with you. He was right: It was my responsibility."

"Stop it, Rebecca. It was my fault," Catherine restated. "And once Vincent settles down, he'll realize that." She squeezed Rebecca's hand. "In fact, I'd be willing to bet that before the evening is over, he'll be looking for you – to apologize. But for now," she smiled broadly, "I think you'd better get out of here before he comes back."

Rebecca smiled also. "Yes … I think you're right."

The two women hugged again and then Rebecca hurriedly left the chamber. Catherine lie back against her pillows and put the back of her left hand on her forehead as it furrowed in pain. Gently she massaged the bandage over her right wrist.

"Cathy? Are you okay?" Joe asked.

She gave a small cry and jerked upright off the pillows. "Joe?"

"Sorry," he said as he moved to her side. He grabbed hold of her left hand. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"I thought I was alone."

"No – but everyone else has left. What happened?"

She sighed. "It was so stupid! I woke up and was alone. I was thirsty. Instead of waiting a minute or calling for someone, I tried to get it myself. Vincent had moved his favorite chair so he could sit here beside the bed and hold my hand. I'm not use to it being there and tripped over it, fell and sprain my wrist."

"Are you all right?"

She smiled. "I will be. It really isn't serious."

"But Vincent ..." his voice trailed off.

She frowned slightly. "Yes … he's very upset. He …" A tear rolled down her check.

"What?" he prompted.

"He feels guilty."

"He does?" Joe questioned in surprise. "I thought he was doing a pretty good job of laying out Rebecca because he thought she was responsible."

She shook her head. "No … not really. And he will feel sorry for that in a few hours and he _will _seek her out and apologize. I know that."

"But if he wasn't here, why does he feel responsible?"

"Because he wasn't here." There was a pause before she continued. "Vincent thinks that he must … protect me … watch over me. And whenever anything happens to me … especially Above … he blames himself because he can't be with me."

"But this happened down here."

She nodded. "But only because I'd been hurt Above."

Joe nodded in understanding. "Yeah," he said softly.

A reflective smile played on her lips. "He doesn't understand that … even if he could live Above … he'd never be able to be with me every minute. But he …"

She stopped suddenly.

"But he what?"

She shook her head. "He's coming back.

"How do you know?"

"Our bond. I feel him coming closer."

Before Joe could ask her any more, Vincent entered the chamber, carrying a tray. He sat it on the table and poured a cup of tea from the tea pot. He carried the cup to Catherine and placed it securely in her hands. He turned to Joe.

"Would you care for some tea? I can get another cup," Vincent offered.

"No," Joe answered as he stood up. "I'm going back to my room … ah … chamber and rest. I'm tired. I just wanted to see how Cathy was doing."

Vincent hung his head. "And you find her … being carelessly tended."

Joe shook his head. "No," he answered. "I find a silly mistake, that could've happened anywhere. And I find her feeling better, and feeling safe, and happy to be where she is."

Vincent nodded briefly in acknowledgement of Joe's words.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe heard a slight sound at his chamber's entrance and looked up. In the doorway stood a man. He was slight in stature with medium-length blond hair that was irregularly cut and looked as if he had not combed it yet this week. But his eyes were bright and alert and shining with excitement. His age could have been anything from l5 to 35. He pointed a finger at Joe.

"You Joe?"

"Yeah, I'm Joe."

He pointed the finger at himself. "Mouse. Vincent sent me."

Without a further word he came into the chamber. sat on the floor and stared up at Joe. They sat looking at each other in silence for several minutes.

"Why are you here?" Joe asked finally.

"Told you: Vincent sent me."

"Why?"

"To tell you."

Joe grinned. "Okay … to tell me what?"

"About Mouse."

"Then tell me."

"What do you want to know?"

Something in Joe began to like this unusual person.

"How long have you been here?"

"Few minutes. Just arrived."

Now Joe laughed out loud. "You're right. That is what I asked. But what I meant was, how long have you lived Below?"

"Always."

"You were born down here?"

"Don't know – don't remember."

"What about your parents."

"No parents. Just friends like Vincent."

"Then how did you come to live in the community?"

Mouse grinned rather sheepishly. "Vincent found, caught, took Mouse to Father." He shrugged. "Lived in community ever since."

"What do you do?"

"Fix things. Help Father. Make plans."

"What kind of plans?"

"New chambers. New pipes. New whatever."

"I've heard the children speak of Helpers. Who are they?"

Mouse shrugged as if unable to answer. "Helpers are … Helpers."

"What do they do?"

"They … help."

Joe sighed. Frustration began to overshadow his humor. "Who do they help? Where do they live?"

"Helpers are Topsiders – live Above. They help Mouse help community."

"How do they help?"

"Bring things: food, clothes, things." He stopped and grinned broadly. "Help." He laughed at his joke.

Joe chuckled also. "Is Cathy a Helper?"

"Catherine! More than a Helper. Vincent's Catherine."

"Can you tell me about Cathy … Catherine and Vincent?"

"Tell you everything. Vincent's my friend. We talk … share."

"What does she mean to him?"

Mouse looked very thoughtful. For a long moment, Joe thought he would not answer but then Mouse spoke.

"Vincent told me once love is end of his aloneness. Everyone knows … Catherine means everything … everything to Vincent."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Late that evening, Joe returned to Vincent's chamber. As he entered the chamber, Vincent looked up from the book he was reading and placed a finger to his lips. Silently Vincent rose from the chair and crossed to Joe. Taking Joe's arm, he led him back into the tunnel.

"Catherine's asleep. I would rather you didn't awaken her ... She hasn't been sleeping well."

"Sure, it can wait."

Vincent looked Joe directly in the eye. Joe grinned, embarrassed, as he realized he had been staring quite openly at Vincent.

"Sorry," Joe apologized.

Vincent shook his head slightly. "It's not necessary. But I sense that you have some questions you'd like to ask."

"I was just wondering. There's something that I still don't understand – and no one else seems able to answer my question."

"And what is your question?"

"It's about you and Cathy. I don't understand your relationship. I don't understand what she is to you."

"Catherine is my life," he answered simply.

"But how … did you meet?"

"I found her Above."

"What do you mean you 'found' her?"

"In Central Park. She was bleeding to death."

Joe's eyes grew wide as understanding began to dawn on him.

"Do you mean – when she was attacked – when her face was sliced up – that was when you met her?"

Vincent nodded. "The men who had harmed her had left her in Central Park. I found her there."

"And brought her down here? Those days she was missing?"

"She was here, Below – healing – and learning."

"Learning what?"

"I could tell you … but I believe she should answer this question herself."

Vincent stopped and cocked his head slightly.

"What is it, Vincent?" Joe asked.

"Catherine."

Without any further explanation, Vincent hurried back into the chamber. Joe followed slowly behind him. Catherine was clinging tightly to Vincent. He was trying to soothe her.

"Are you holding me, Vincent? I can't feel your arms around me!"

His arms shifted as they tightened around her.

"You're safe, Catherine. No one will harm you," the velvet voice crooned.

"I dreamt I was Above … blind … and I couldn't find my way to you," she sobbed.

"It was only a dream. You're here. I have you."

"But if my sight doesn't come back? Vincent, what if I'm like this … forever?"

"Catherine … please … don't. Father said there's no reason to believe that your sight will not return. You mustn't allow yourself … to become so upset," he pleaded with her.

"But if I can't see? If I'm blind?"

"I'll be here … always," he assured her softly.

Gradually her sobs subsided. She simply clung to Vincent in silence. Eventually her breathing became deep and regular. Tenderly Vincent laid the sleeping Catherine back down upon the bed. He covered her with a quilt, his hands paused, caressing her shoulders as he hesitated before letting go of her.

With a weary sigh he stood up. For several minutes he looked at her as she slept. Sluggishly he turned to leave the chamber. Joe knew that the agony in Vincent's eyes would haunt his own dreams that night. Without a word, Joe went back into the tunnel and waited for Vincent to follow him. Vincent came from the chamber. He leaned against the tunnel wall.

"She does not sleep well. Her nightmare returns … two … three … times each night. It's been … almost a week. The swelling has gone … and still her vision does not return. Nothing that I say will alleviate her fears. Nothing that I do … makes her feel safe," Vincent confessed in a tortured voice.

Vincent closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. A single tear rolled down his check. Joe lowered his eyes, unable to answer the raw emotion he was witnessing.

Vincent shook his head, straightened. He opened his eyes again.

"I'm sorry. You're recovering from your own wound. I should not burden you but ..."

"No … listen … I think the world of Cathy," Joe assured him. "Anything I can do to help – even if it's just letting you get this off your chest."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe and Father sat at the table, sharing breakfast. The pipes were strangely silent. Suddenly there was the clanging of a message. With a gasp, Joe dropped his fork. Trying not to, Father began to chuckle. Joe glanced at him harshly, realized the humor in the situation, and then began to laugh

also.

"With everything else you've accomplished here Below," Joe started, "can't you figure out how to fix that?"

Now Father laughed out loud.

"It does not need to be 'fixed.' That's the way we communicate."

Joe looked at him in surprise. "Are you joking? But how? The way these pipes twist and turn … how can you direct your messages?"

"Well …" Father started, but before he could explain, Zach entered the chamber. "Ah, Zachary. What's on Mr. Maxwell's schedule for today?"

"I thought I'd let him talk to William."

Father chuckled. "And I'm sure that that decision has nothing to do with the fresh strawberries the Helpers brought down last night."

Zach broke into a wide grin.

"You may visit William, but I want you to take Mr. Maxwell to Pascal first."

"All right, Father. Right away."

Joe drank the last of his coffee and rose to go with Zach.

Zach led him through the tunnels, joking with Joe as they went. The tunnel widened into a vast cavern. Joe stopped staring in amazement around the Pipe Chamber. Slowly, twisting and turning to get different views of the complicated network of pipes that flowed into the chamber, Joe followed Zach along a catwalk-like ledge to the central point of this gigantic metal spider web.

Joe was confronted by a short, balding man. From each of his wrists dangled a leather throng tied in a loop. From each loop hung a one-half inch pipe about l5 inches long. He had an open likable face. An easy smile came to his lips. The man held out his hand.

"Mr. Maxwell, welcome. My name is Pascal."

Joe grinned at him. "How did you know who I am?"

Zach laughed. "Pascal knows everything that goes on Below. _Everything_ passes through Pascal's pipes. I'll leave you here and come back later."

Joe called after the retreating boy, "Save some of those strawberries for me."

With a wave of his hand, Zach was gone. Joe turned back to Pascal.

"What is all of this?" Joe asked waving his arm around the chamber.

"This is the network of pipes that we use to communicate."

"How?"

Pascal began to explain the basics of the pipe network to Joe. He explained how their language had begun as Morse code and been adapted for their use. He explained how the system was used by the community.

Joe spent most of the day in the Pipe Chamber.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe hurried toward Vincent's chamber. He started through the entrance.

"Radcliffe, can you give me a ..."

"Just a moment," Vincent ordered softly.

But Joe had already stopped. Before him was one of Elizabeth's walls come to life. Catherine stood in the circle of Vincent's arms. But instead of a velvet ball gown, she was wearing a nightgown of sheer silk. Spaghetti straps held up the delicate gown. The pale jade silk clung to her body enticingly from the extremely low neckline to her feet. The candlelight gave her skin the luster of porcelain. She looked like a pastel figurine, except for her bright green eyes. Joe thought, seeing her like this, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Joe registered this all in the instant before Vincent moved slightly to stand between Catherine and Joe. Vincent removed his cape from the back of a chair and laid it around Catherine's shoulders.

"I'm... sorry," Joe stammered, blushing slightly.

For an instant, he was glad Catherine couldn't see him. Vincent led Catherine to his large arm chair and helped her to sit down.

"I was just getting ready to go see the children. Perhaps you could stay with Catherine while I'm gone," Vincent suggested.

"Sure. I wanted to ask her, a few questions anyway."

Vincent stroked her upper arm. "I'll return shortly."

She laughed delightfully, "UnIess they talk you into _two_ stories."

Vincent chuckled. "I promise … unlike last night … only one story tonight. I _will_ return ... shortly."

Joe stood aside so Vincent could leave the chamber. He went over to the bed and sat on the edge.

"Is he jealous?" Joe asked.

Catherine smiled. "No, just protective."

"Should I tell him that l've watched you being wired wearing a lot less than this?"

Now she laughed outright. "If you think you're brave enough."

He laughed. "No, I don't think I'll try that." He sobered. "But I do have some serious things to ask you."

"What about?"

"This place. I don't understand the scam."

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"I've talked to Father and Mary and I can understand why they live like this. But as I understand it, there are a lot more people who live down here."

"There are several you haven't met," she agreed.

"Okay, like Pascal. He's quick, intelligent. What's his angle?"

"What do you mean 'his angle'?"

"Why does he stay down here? With his mind, he could do anything."

She shrugged. "So he's doing exactly what he wants to do. Pascal loves his work. He wouldn't leave his pipes for anything."

"It doesn't make any sense. People who can't survive Above, like Mary – or people who can't live Above, like Vincent. But I don't understand the rest of these people. Are they hiding? Are they wanted by the law?"

"No! This isn't some hole-in-the-wall gang. Joe, these people are here because they want to be. They're here because they believe in the world Father's tried to create."

Joe was silent for a moment. "Are you honestly telling me, that this is just a group of people who just want to live a simpler way of life? Then what about these Helpers I've heard about? What do they get out of it?"

Catherine sighed deeply. "I'd hoped – now that you were down here – that you'd understand. I know that you aren't as cynical as you'd like most people to think you are. I'd thought that once you'd seen the tunnels ..."

"What?" he prompted.

She shook her head. "It's something you must know … here!" She laid her hand on her chest.

"Vincent said that when he first found you and brought you Below, you were learning while you were down here. What?"

"Joe, I grew up in a manner most people spend their lives trying to obtain. But all the people in my life were so dispassionate … so uninvolved. There was nothing in their lives that was worth any inconvenience … any commitment. Vincent allowed me to see beyond the surface … to reach out to others. He showed me how to care." She smiled at him. "Joe, 'There _is_ a truth beyond knowledge.' This world is based on that truth. You can be shown the way, but you cannot be taught. This is a truth you can only learn with your heart."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Father flashed a small flashlight in and out of Catherine's eyes several times. He turned the light out and sighed. Gently he felt around the raw furrow on her temple.

"Catherine … the swelling has gone down nicely. How does it feel?"

"The actual injury bothers me. It itches and pulls, but it doesn't cause me too much trouble. But my head …"

"What about your head?"

"I have a horrible pain … that doesn't seem to lessen."

"Where?"

"It shoots from one side of my head to the other – like a nail driven through my skull."

"Catherine, I don't believe that there's any reason why you shouldn't be able to see."

A puzzled look took over her features. "But … why am I blind?"

Father took one of her hands between both of his.

"What happened in that warehouse?"

She shivered involuntarily.

Father squeezed the hand he held. "Try to tell me," he prompted.

"Joe and I had gone to meet a witness who said he'd testify against a gangland boss we've been trying to prosecute." She shook her head sadly. "It was a trap. We got caught in a gun battle. Suddenly … Vincent was there. He … killed …" she stumbled on the word.

Both Catherine and Father knew the agony caused to Vincent by the necessity of his beast side. Both knew the remorse and guilt that followed him for hours after he was provoked to such acts. Father patted her hand.

"Go on, child," he encouraged her.

"He … killed two of the gunmen. Then the third one shot him. It was horrible! I started to run to him. I could see the blood on his doublet. I tried to reach him. It was like … everything was in … slow motion. I couldn't seem to move fast enough to reach him. He sank to his knees … fell forward onto his hands. I could see him … in that strange light … on his hands and knees … his head hung down as if … as if …"

A sob escaped her lips. She buried her face in her hands. Father stood up and moved closer to her. He put his arm around her shaking shoulders.

"Shh," he comforted her. "It's all right. Both of you are safe now."

"It … tears at my heart … to see him hurt!"

"I know … and perhaps that's why your vision is gone."

She raised her face toward him.

"Really?" she asked.

"Perhaps."

He handed her a washrag he had rinsed out in a basin of water.

"Here – wash your face. You'll feel better. Let me replace your bandage."

He set about doing so, continuing to talk to her.

"I'll check with Peter to see if he has any suggestions about your sight. And the tablets I gave you for your wrist should give you some relief from your headache. Start taking them again and see if they help."

She nodded.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe laughed at the story Rebecca was relaying about a prank Vincent and Devin, Father's biological son, had pulled when they delivered candles to the Helpers for a celebration called Winterfest.

"And Father," she continued, "was furious! It took him days to get over it."

"I can picture Father. By the way, I saw Father working in the hospital chamber with this woman early fifties, dark hair, dark eyes," he chuckled. "If she were 16, I'd say she was acting like she had a crush on him."

Rebecca smiled shyly. "That was Sarah. She … ah … well …"

Joe laughed and nodded.

"Okay, I don't need to understand Father's love life," he responded good naturedly.

Rebecca laughed also.

"There is something else I'd like to ask you about Vincent," Joe told her.

"What?"

"Does Vincent get angry very often, like when I saw him yell at you the other day?"

She smiled softly. "No, not often. Even when he is angry, he very seldom shows it like that. He's most concerned about Catherine. She's so frightened about the possibility of not getting her sight back. He can feel her fears. And when it's Catherine …" Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

"They have an unusual relationship," Joe commented.

Rebecca smiled. "They have wonderful relationship. It is very special … so unique."

"Why do you live down here?"

"I came down here when I was about six years old. I'd been abandoned – left in the Park one day. One of the Helpers found me. She brought me here below to Father. He's the only father I've had. This is the only family I've ever known. The only home I remember."

"When Vincent was yelling at you, you didn't seem frightened."

"Of Vincent?" She chuckled. "I wasn't! When he's angry enough, because one of us or Catherine has been hurt or is in danger, he's quite capable of doing … whatever … is necessary to defend us … protect us. And while he was distressed because Catherine had been hurt because I'd left her alone, he would never harm any of us." She smiled brightly. "Catherine was right, you know – after supper that night, he did come to look for me – and he did apologize."

Joe shook his head. "You're so easy to talk to. I feel that I can ask you anything. But there's something I can't seem to grasp."

"About us?"

"Yes."

A smile played on her lips. "That's because you're trying to learn about us with your head … not your heart."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe sat alone in his guest chamber. Thoughts and images of the people he had met and the places he had seen the last few days tumbled through his mind.

Vincent had visited him earlier, requesting that he remain in his chamber tonight. Vincent had explained that the Council was meeting and that Joe must not be around Father's chamber during that time. Vincent had been quick to explain that Joe was not prisoner but since Joe could easily lose his way in the maze of tunnels it would be better that he not wander on his own. Since Joe needed the time to absorb the knowledge he had acquired since coming Below, he was content to sit and contemplate.

"Mr. Maxwell?"

Joe glanced up in surprise to see Zach standing in the entranceway.

"Hi, Zach. I didn't expect you until in the morning."

Zach smiled. "I have an invitation for you."

"You do? From who?"

"As you probably know, there's a Council meeting tonight. When Vincent and Father are tied up like this, the children meet on their own. We older ones retell the little ones stories Vincent and Father have told us. We've decided to allow you to come to the Children's Chamber tonight – if you'd like."

Joe thought the invitation over for a minute and then nodded. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

He entered a chamber that was like a dormitory room. All of the children that Joe had met in Mary's class, as well as many more, were gathered in the room. The children had made a place for Joe to sit. They had excitedly shown him to his seat when Zach had brought him into the chamber. He sat down on a large cushion against the wall.

In amazement Joe sat and listened as the older children, each telling a section, told the story of Pascal's father and a man called John Patter who had developed the network of pipe communication. They told of how Pascal's father had passed the knowledge to Pascal and how Pascal had refined, abbreviating the system for easy use.

When the story was over Joe noticed that many of the children were looking at him.

"Will you answer some questions for me?" he asked

"Sure."

"Of course."

Many of the children chorused an answer.

"Where do you learn your stories?"

"Father."

"Vincent."

"Mary."

"Winslow."

Four children chirped four different names. But when the last name had been spoken, a silence fell over the group.

"These are the stories of our world," Zach explained. "The adults tell us," he motioned to some of the older children. "We tell the smaller ones. In time, they'll tell others."

"We gather when the Council meets," Kipper took over. "We retell the stories so we can be sure we know them."

"And these stories are of things that really happened?" Joe asked.

"Oh, yes," Samantha asserted. "These stories are our history and our heritage."

Joe sat dumbfounded. He realized that he was witnessing how cultures had preserved themselves from generation to generation since before the time of written history. He slowly accepted the fact that he was observing the second generation of a new society.

"Will you tell me more about your world?" he asked.

The children looked around at each other.

"The Council hasn't named you a Helper yet," Eric stated.

"I don't understand what that means," Joe told them.

Zach spoke up. "The people you've met are people who have agreed to meet you. Our society's private. We have strict laws. We aren't allowed to talk to you about someone who hasn't chosen to meet you."

Joe shrugged. "Do you have any stories about Cathy and Vincent?"

Many of the children began to laugh.

"We have lots of stories about Vincent," one of the little girls giggled. "He's always doing things!"

"I think we should tell Mr. Maxwell about Winslow," Samantha said solemnly.

"Yes," most of the young voices sounded.

"But I haven't met Winslow," Joe stated. "I thought you couldn't tell me about people I haven't met."

"Winslow was killed," Kipper explained. "I think Samantha's right."

The children settled down. After a brief pause, Zach began to speak.

"The story begins long ago, with a man who helped to found our world. But soon his evil became apparent and he was banished from our world. But his evil continued to grow and it flowed into the world Above. And when Catherine and Vincent stopped him from selling his drugs Above, he turned his evil against them. One night, when Vincent had not gone to Catherine and she was Above, all by herself, his evil touched her."

At the mention of Catherine's name, Joe had sat up straighter. He immediately recognized the allusion to the drug case he and Cathy had worked on a year or so earlier. He listened in total fascination as the children told him the story of Paracelsus' kidnap of Catherine. They told how Vincent, Pascal and Winslow, followed by Jamie, had traveled lower and lower into the tunnels as they searched for Catherine. The children told Joe how Winslow had given his life on the journey, how Vincent had continued alone, how he had found Catherine and fought to rescue her from Parcelsus so he could bring her back to the community. From the tale, Joe recognized the scene of the avenging Vincent he had seen in the painted tunnels.

Samantha finished the story. "And as they journeyed back to us, Vincent and Catherine spoke of why he had not been able to feel her fear as he was looking for her. And when Catherine told him how she had refused to feel her fear so he would not be drawn to her – so he would not risk his life by trying to save her – Vincent realized how totally Catherine loved him. And they came to understand that Winslow had given his life because he had known that love is worth any sacrifice. And we'll always remember Winslow. Not only because of his great strength, but because of his great heart. We remember him, because his life was an example of what our world means."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The next morning Joe and Father were finishing a cup of coffee when Vincent led Catherine unto the main chamber.

"Ah, good morning, Catherine, Vincent," Father greeted them. "Will you join us?"

"I will," Catherine replied, "but Vincent's leaving for a rendezvous with another woman."

"Indeed!" Father exclaimed in mock surprise. "And who could possibly tear him from your side?"

"Narcissa."

The smile slipped from Father's face. "Narcissa? Why are you going there?"

Vincent shrugged. "She sent for me."

"About Catherine?"

"I don't know. But I owe it to Narcissa to answer her request that I come."

Father sighed heavily.

"I've heard about her," Joe injected. "Elizabeth mentioned her. She said Narcissa is a voodoo sorceress." The last two words were full of Joe's disbelief.

"Narcissa lives in a world of her own creation," Vincent stated.

"I'd like to go with you," Joe told him.

Vincent hesitated a moment and then nodded once.

"We'll leave at once. It'll take several hours."

"Fine – I'm ready."

Vincent helped Catherine over to an easy chair.

"I'll return as quickly as I'm able," he said as he stroked her hair.

She held up her hand and he grasped it tightly in his. After a long moment, Vincent turned to Father. "Will you take Catherine back to my chamber when she tires?"

"Of course I will – if you insist on going on this useless journey," the disapproval veiled but evident in Father's voice.

As Vincent began to pull his hand from hers, Catherine squeezed it tightly. "Hurry back to me, Vincent," she pleaded softly.

Joe saw hesitation flicker through Vincent's expressive blue eyes.

"Narcissa has saved both of our lives … in the past. She would not have sent for me if she didn't believe it was important."

Catherine smiled. "I know that. I'm not asking you not to go. Just hurry."

He squeezed her hand once more and then motioned for Joe to follow him as he left the chamber.

The two men traveled down through the twists and turns that made up the tunnel world. Joe studied the bottomless cavern in amazement as Vincent guided him down the steep steps that bordered The Abyss. The steps hung off the edge of a vast cavern. It seemed to stretch to heaven. And below was only swirling wind that seemed to plunge forever into the depths, on and on without end. They entered the Chamber of the Winds and Joe gasped at the force of the mysterious subterranean gale.

Vincent smiled at Joe's reactions to his world. Catherine had often spoken to Vincent about Joe. He knew that she trusted Joe totally. He also knew that for quite some time she had wanted to tell Joe about the tunnels. She felt there was something he needed from Below.

Vincent led Joe to one side of the Chamber of the Winds. They slipped between the chamber wall and a rock slab. They were in a narrow tunnel that opened into a small chamber.

The chamber was illuminated by hundreds of candles and made to appear even smaller by the dozens of shelves that hung around the walls. An uncountable number of bottles, vials, and small boxes set on the shelves. They were filled with all kinds of herbs, roots, plants, powders and other things at which Joe could only guess. Across the room there was a work table. A woman stood with her back to them, bent over the table.

"Ah, Vincent," the old, black woman greeted them. "I saw turmoil in the waters – and knew you were here."

She turned to face them. She was dressed in a cotton shift with a bandanna tied around her head. Her eyes were glazed over with a milky film. The strange cadence of her Caribbean accent fell pleasantly on Joe's ears.

"And you are thinking of your friend," she continued, "and the water shows more turmoil. You have brought someone else with you."

"He's a friend of Catherine's."

"And in the future, you, too, will call him friend."

The two men exchanged a glance.

"Your insight may service you well," Vincent agreed.

"And now you are united in your worry for the woman."

Vincent nodded. "Catherine's been injured and is blind."

"No," Narcissa contradicted. "Not blind. She does not see."

"That is the same thing," Vincent explained.

"No. Different."

He sighed. "The same or different … she is in darkness."

"Yes … darkness she has created. Like blowing out a candle."

Vincent looked at Joe and shrugged slightly.

"Why have you sent for me, Narcissa?" Vincent asked.

"To warn you! Vincent, you are in peril. You and this man who will be your friend. Be careful. Great danger will befall you … unless … Catherine lights the candle."

Narcissa turned away from Vincent and went back to her work on the table.

Vincent waited a moment. When he decided that Narcissa had finished talking, he turned to Joe. He gestured for Joe to precede him through the small tunnel entrance.

The noise from the winds made communication impossible until they had reached the edge of The Abyss. Still they continued in silence for a long while.

"Vincent?"

Vincent stopped walking and turned to face Joe.

"Do you … believe that stuff?" Joe questioned.

Vincent sighed. "Belief is a strong word. But … Narcissa has saved Catherine's life before – and mine. Her world is her own … but there is substance to it. We only need to figure out how it relates to our own."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe walked toward the main chamber. As he turned a corner of the tunnel, he came face to face with Vincent and Catherine. She was dressed in a flowing white gown of linen and lace.

"You look beautiful, Radcliffe!" he exclaimed.

She smiled. "I'll have to take your word for that."

Joe looked at Vincent. "You look pretty spiffy too."

Vincent cocked his head. "Spiffy?" he questioned.

Catherine and Joe laughed.

"You must excuse Vincent his classical education," Catherine teased.

"And where are you taking this young lady?" Joe questioned in mock sternness.

Vincent smiled. "As she said, you must forgive my classical education. I am taking her to a concert."

Joe looked at him with a blank expression. "You're what?"

"They're playing Chopin tonight," Catherine said.

"Now wait a minute …" Joe said holding up a hand to slow them down. "Let me get this straight. You two are going to a concert?"

"Yes," Catherine answered.

"Down here, right?"

She smiled. "No, in the Park."

"That's it!" Joe insisted. "I'm not going to horn in the whole evening, but you've got to let me see how Vincent can go to a concert in the Park!"

Vincent smiled at him, waited a moment and then nodded.

"I think … we should take him with us," Vincent told Catherine.

She smiled her answer.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe stood in the center of what was more of an alcove then a chamber. Multi-coloured cushions had been placed against one wall. Vincent and Catherine moved around Joe as he turned slowly, taking in yet another wonder of this strange world into which he had found himself thrust. He looked up. The ceiling held an iron grid through which he could see the night sky. Vincent sat on the pillows beside Catherine watching Joe. When the music started, Joe turned to Vincent, shaking his head.

"This is too much. I really do not believe this place!"

Catherine laughed and leaned against Vincent's large chest. His arm cradled her tenderly.

"Listen" Joe started "I don't want to interrupt your evening. I'll head back."

Vincent, who had been watching Catherine's features as she enjoyed the music, looked up at Joe.

"Wait. You may not be able to find your way," Vincent said as he rose to his feet.

"No," Joe protested, "I don't want you to leave Cathy alone. I'll be all right."

"No, Joe," Catherine argued. "I've been lost in these tunnels before … you could be missing for days."

"I will send for one of the children," Vincent told her.

Before Joe could dissent further, one of the children ran into the area.

"Vincent! Vincent! Quick!"

Vincent strode over to the child, took hold of his shoulder and leaned over to talk.

"Louis, tell me."

"Another cave-in in the Maze. Father says you have to come right away!"

"Has anyone been hurt?" Catherine demanded.

"No, we don't think so. But there's been a lot of damage done to surrounding areas. Father says that some of the other chambers could be unsafe now. He sent me to get Vincent."

"Tell Father I'll be there ... as soon as I've taken Catherine back."

"I can take Cathy back," Joe said. "I'll explain the intersections and she can navigate."

Vincent seemed to falter.

"Go, Vincent," Catherine insisted as she stood up. "I'll be fine with Joe."

Vincent looked from Joe to her and back to Joe again. He made up his mind.

"Care for her," Vincent ordered quietly.

Joe nodded and Vincent was gone. Joe went over to Catherine.

"Do you want to stay awhile?" he asked.

She smiled. "I know you don't like this music. And I don't particularly want to stay without Vincent."

They walked slowly through the tunnels. Joe was telling Catherine his impressions of Vincent's world.

"I'm beginning to understand what you were saying about this not being a scam. It took awhile, but now that I've seen some of these tunnels and chambers, I know how this phenomenon came about."

Catherine smiled at him. "How?"

"It's this place! That's what makes them think they can create a fantasy society **– **a utopia. The physical location of this world makes you believe in miracles."

Joe took Catherine back to Vincent's chamber.

"It's still early," Joe said. "Would you like me to stay? Do you want to do something?"

"Vincent's been rereading read Great Expectations to me. Would you want to read a chapter or two for me?"

"Rereading?"

"He read it to me when we first met."

Joe sat down close to her. "Cathy, I like to think of myself as your friend."

"You are my friend," she assured him. "One of my best friends."

"I've known for a long time now that you've had secrets in your life. But I never dreamt of … _anything_ like this."

She smiled. "I hope you're beginning to understand why I had to keep it secret … even from you."

"I think I'm beginning to see, but …" he paused. "There are still questions I have – things I don't understand. Especially …" he broke off suddenly, unsure how to continue.

"Especially about me … and Vincent?" she asked softly.

He smiled. "Yeah. He told me how he found you Above. And I can see how you would become important to him. But why do you … I mean …" he stopped.

She took a deep breath as she thought a moment.

"Did he tell you," she started, "that for ten days, while my entire face was bandaged, including my eyes, that he stayed by my side; that he fed me; that he held my hand when I was frightened; that he talked to me; that he read to me; that he comforted me?

"Did he tell you that when I was well enough to go back Above, and I begged him to tell me that my ruined face was a nightmare, that he made me face my fears and the reality of my situation; that he forced me to go back Above and rebuild my life?

"Did he tell you that he showed me where to look inside myself to find the strength to do whatever I believed needed to be done?

"Did he tell you that he made me realize that to reach out to other people with help and to accept the help they offered was the way people should live together?

"Did he tell you that he taught me to love?"

She tilted her face toward Joe. The flickering candlelight reflected off the tears that filled her eyes. He looked into their green depths, watching the dancing sparks. A single tear overflowed and ran delicately down her cheek.

"Is it any wonder … that I fell in love with him? Or that I find the fact that _he_ loves _me_ … to be … a miracle?" she whispered.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe wandered through the main chamber, searching the myriad nooks and crannies for Father. A middle aged woman with long dark hair entered the chamber.

"Here he is," she called back into the tunnel.

Joe turned to face her as she walked over to him.

"We haven't met yet, Mr. Maxwell. My name is Sarah."

"Hi, Sarah ... And I'm Joe." He gestured around the chamber. "Where is everybody?"

"Working in the lower tunnels."

Mary came into the chamber with Catherine.

"I'm afraid we forgot about you this morning," Mary greeted him. "There's just so much to get organized."

"Why?"

Catherine walked toward him, holding out her hand. He took it and helped her to a chair.

"There's been a disaster," Catherine told him. "It was almost morning before Vincent returned from the Maze."

"What's happened?" Joe asked.

"No one's completely sure," Sarah said.

"Father believes it could have been a minor earthquake," Mary informed him.

"An earthquake! In New York?"

Catherine shrugged. "All we know for sure is that a large section of the Maze has collapsed. The repercussion from the collapse has caused damage to several other areas."

"Fortunately," Mary inserted, "not in any of the living quarters."

"But there's a lot of damage to the Great Hall," Sarah told him. "Mary and I are going to fix some lunch and take down there."

"That's where everyone is," Catherine explained

"I'd be glad to help you carry the stuff," Joe volunteered.

"But what about Catherine?" Sarah asked.

Joe shrugged. "Can't she come with us?"

Mary looked thoughtful. "I suppose she could … we'll have to use the back entrance anyway."

"We can't take Catherine!" Sarah exclaimed. "What on earth would Vincent say?"

"Still," Mary gently insisted, "I think it'd be quite safe for her, if she feels up to it."

"I _would_ like to go," Catherine told them. "It'd give me a chance to spend a little time with Vincent today."

"Father won't like it," Sarah insisted.

"Father will get over it," Mary told her.

Joe watched the two women. Both were in their 50's. Sarah's dark hair and eyes were a total contrast to Mary's soft gray hair and pale hazel eyes. Sarah was a plain woman compared to Mary's good looks. Joe marveled that two women who were so totally opposite in all ways – looks, personality, and temperament – could both be so obviously smitten with the same man.

Joe had watched both of them around Father. He was sure that if Father realized their attention or gave the slightest encouragement to either one or both, Father's peaceful life of areclusive scholar would be shattered forever.

He suddenly realized that all three women were looking at him.

"Well, Joe?" Catherine demanded.

"I'm … sorry. I was thinking about something else for a minute."

"Don't you think it'd be all right for me to go to the Great Hall?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah … sure." He turned to Sarah and Mary. "You ladies get lunch ready and the four of us'll take it to everyone."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Vincent suddenly let go of the table he was helping to lift. Mouse, who had been helping on Vincent's end had a stricken look flash across his face and then he dropped the end of the heavy banquet table.

"Hey!"

Duncan and Zach, who had been labouring with the opposite end, looked up as the table suddenly quit moving.

"Not my fault!" Mouse insisted. "Vincent not helping."

Vincent half turned to the trio.

"I'm sorry. I suddenly felt Catherine … very close."

"Badder than bad," Mouse informed him. "Too dangerous for Catherine. Shouldn't be here."

"I agree," Vincent assured him.

Vincent looked up and saw Mary, Sarah, Catherine and Joe descending the staircase that led from the back entrance of the Great Hall.

"Catherine!" Vincent crossed the Hall quickly to meet Catherine at the bottom of the stairs.

"We brought your lunch," she greeted him.

"But … You shouldn't be here! It's far too dangerous!" he insisted. "You could trip over debris."

Sarah shot everyone an 'I told you so' look and continued into the Hall. Mary silently moved around Vincent, leaving Joe to deal with the angry looks Vincent had been giving all of them.

"Hey," Joe started brashly, "the ladies needed help. Catherine wanted to come. I didn't see any reason why she shouldn't."

Catherine smiled knowing that Vincent was not use to having anyone stand up to him in this brazen manner. But she decided it should go no further. She held out to Vincent the basket she carried.

"Will you help me?" she asked.

Vincent put his arm around her as he took the basket from her grasp. Joe grinned that showed he clearly enjoyed the way she wrapped Vincent around her little finger. He followed them to a table that was quickly being turned into a buffet.

After they had eaten, Catherine sat on the steps so she would be out of the way as the men returned to work. Mary and Sarah had gathered up the remains of the luncheon and started back to the Inner Circle.

Vincent was showing Joe around the Great Hall. They had stopped in front of the l4 foot, heavy, wooden doors that formed the formal entrance to the Hall.

"Are these doors ever used?" Joe asked.

"Yes, usually they are. But the passage beyond follows the Abyss. When the doors are open, a strong wind blows through this chamber.

"What's this place normally used for?"

"Great celebrations … like Winterfest. But, occasionally, we use it for some other reason."

The two men turned to survey the Hall. Several of the ceiling beams had fallen. One had caught one of the tapestries and pulled it from the wall. Another had badly damaged one of the large banquet tables. Still a third had shattered two chairs.

"It could have been much worse," Vincent told him.

Joe nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right."

The two men started back toward Catherine.

"Vincent, will you be much longer?"

Vincent turned to answer Father's question. As he did so, his keen ears detected a strange sound – like wood being ripped. Before he could perceive the source of the sound, Catherine's cry pierced the Hall.

"Vincent! Look out!"

He turned to stare at her in amazement.

Joe looked first at Catherine and then Vincent. Behind Vincent, Joe saw one of the massive main doors tear away from its frame. Instinct told him that Vincent was so totally engrossed with Catherine that he did not perceive the danger. Joe lowered a shoulder and dove at Vincent in a flying tackle. The surprised Vincent was carried inches beyond the door as it fell with an incredible crash. In the blink of an eye, wind gusted into the chamber instantly extinguishing over half of the candles. The workers were left in a darkened wind tunnel.

Joe rolled off of Vincent and the two men sat up. He looked to see if Vincent was hurt. Vincent and Catherine were staring across the Hall at other. Catherine had risen to her feet. It took Joe a moment to realize that she was indeed looking into Vincent's eyes.

Catherine smiled brilliantly and ran across the floor. She threw herself at Vincent who, still on the floor, caught her and hugged her tightly to him. She tossed her head back and laughed with delight. He loosened his arms so she could pull away enough that they could look at each other's face. Tenderly her hands cupped his face. Her eyes were bright with the rapture that filled her heart. He smiled at her and tightened his arms to pull her close again.

After a long moment, she again pulled away from him. She smiled up at the men who had gathered around them. She reached out and touched their hands.

"Mouse. Pascal. Zach. William." She rose to her feet as she turned around to acknowledge them all.

Her eyes met older, wiser eyes. He smiled at her and held his arms open to her. She ran to him and they hugged each other almost as joyously as she and Vincent had embraced.

"Father!"

He took her face in his hands, much as she had done to Vincent.

"Are your eyes all right? Is everything clear?"

She nodded. "I think so."

"Any pain?"

She shook her head. "No, I feel fine."

Vincent came to stand behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders.

"Well, now," Father began, his voice choked with emotion, "we need to seal that opening or we'll never be able to get this work finished."

The men followed Father to the entranceway to continue their repair work. Mouse walked in front of Catherine on his way to the doorway. He stopped and stared at her.

"See Mouse?"

She smiled and patted his cheek. "Yes, Mouse, I can see you."

He grinned broadly and went over to the other men.

Catherine turned slowly to face Joe who had risen to his feet. A smile spread across his face.

"Radcliffe? You okay?"

She returned his smile and nodded happily. "I'm fine, Joe."

"Come here!" he exclaimed as he grabbed her in his arms. They clung to each other for a moment and then he released her. He held her at arms length and looked her in the eye.

"You scared me to death! Are you really all right?"

"I'm great, Joe … really."

Joe and Vincent looked at each other and exchanged smiles.

"Joe," Catherine broke into his thoughts, "you're hurt!"

"No," he protested as he looked where she was pointing.

"You are," Vincent asserted.

Where Joe had been shot, a trickle of blood now appeared on his shirt

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Catherine and Vincent stood in the hospital chamber. Joe sat with his legs dangling over the table edge while Father removed the bandage from his arm.

"Yes … yes … you've pulled one of the stitches out, and broke the scab," Father grumbled. "But I don't believe there's anything serious. I'm not going to replace the stitch. I will re-bandage your arm and wait a couple of days. I think I should be able to remove the rest of the stitches then." He shook an index finger at Joe. "But you are a very lucky young man. You could've done serious damage to that wound."

"Yeah, well," Joe joked, "if he," he cocked his head toward Vincent, "weighed about fifteen more pounds, it would be a moot point. You'd be scraping us both up off the floor."

Vincent took a couple of steps toward the table. "I … owe you my life," he said simply.

Joe shook his head. "No, we're even – at least on that score."

Vincent slowly nodded in understanding.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe and Rebecca sat beside the Mirror Pool. They watched the stars as they were reflected through a chink in the top of the cavern. They sat in silence for a long time. Finally, he turned to her and smiled.

"You're very comfortable to be with," he commented. "Quiet when you need to be quiet. Easy to talk to," he smiled. "Just nice to be around."

"Thank you," she responded quietly.

"Tell me something."

"If I can."

"What is it about Below? Why do you stay here?"

She sighed and then smiled. "You don't want to know much."

He laughed.

"I guess," she continued, "it's the people."

"Why are they so special?"

"The love we have for one another. That's a big part of it. But there's more than that. We're like any large group of people. I'm closer to some than to others. I loved some more than I love others.

He shrugged. "Then what is it?"

She sighed again. "I guess, a big part of it is … I know from one day to the next, everyone I come in contact with … is someone who … believes in the same things I believe in. I know that they feel that every individual should be encouraged to become the best he can be … not what someone else thinks he should be … what he _wants_ to be. I know I could ask anyone of them for help if I needed it … in fact, they'd probably offer help before I had to ask. And I know that everyone I deal with is someone I trust."

"What about me? I'm not a member of your world. How did you know you can trust me?"

"Because Catherine said that you were someone who could be trusted. And because she would never allow anyone to harm Vincent's world. And you wouldn't have been able to move around the community if you weren't trusted."

There was another long period of silence, then Joe again broke the peace.

"I'm going to miss you … a lot, I think."

He leaned towards her. Tenderly, softly their lips met, like a teenager's first kiss.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Joe entered the main chamber the next morning expecting to have a quiet breakfast with Father. This had become his habit most mornings and he had come to look forward to their early morning chats. He hurried into the chamber and then stopped short. There were several people gathered around the large round table.

"… and we'll be ready to perform tomorrow night," Samantha was saying.

"But we wanted to give a concert," one of the young boys inserted.

"William's planning a special dinner," Mary stated.

Father nodded. "Well, then … instead of having a dinner … or a concert … or a drama … we will have … a gala."

"By tomorrow night!" Mary exclaimed. "We'll never get it all organized in time.

Father patted her hand. "Just a small one."

"What's the occasion?" Joe asked as he joined them.

"Catherine's sight coming back!" Samantha told him.

"You will find," Father greeted Joe, "we enjoy out little entertainments. We cannot pass up the good news of Catherine's sight returning – and the sadder news of your departure."

Joe sat down, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Departure?" he repeated softly.

"You'll be able to leave after I remove the remaining stitches this afternoon," Father assured him.

"But you will stay through tomorrow night, won't you?" Mary pleaded. "We'll be so disappointed if you insist on leaving today."

Joe smiled at her. "I'll stay … sure."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

William had prepared a wonderful meal. Makeshift banquet tables had been set up in the main chamber. The children's chamber music ensemble played while everyone else ate dinner. After the meal, Samantha's drama group performed a one act play. Then the men removed the tables and musicians began to play for dancing.

Joe watched Catherine and Vincent as they moved through the crowd. They did not touch each other, but watching them as they strolled, one had the impression that they were bound together. They moved almost as one.

Vincent and Catherine had talked to nearly everyone who was in the chamber. They stood on the edge of the dance floor watching the couples. Vincent looked beyond and nodded his head in that direction.

"Joe does not appear to be enjoying himself tonight," he commented.

Catherine looked in the direction Vincent had indicated. Joe was in a chair against the wall in a secluded section of the chamber. She tapped Vincent's arm and motioned in the opposite direction.

"Nor does Rebecca."

Vincent looked at Catherine, a question plainly in his eyes. She smiled and nodded slightly.

"I think so," she said.

"Should we … talk to them?" he asked.

"Yes. I'll talk to Joe. You take Rebecca."

Catherine crossed the room and sat down beside Joe.

"You don't look very happy," she started the conversation.

Joe looked at her evenly. "I guess I'm not."

She could see a variety of emotions play across his face as he watched the dancers. Finally he turned back to her.

"Cathy … how can you go back?"

She sighed. "It is hard," she admitted.

"I don't think I can do it."

"Joe, you have to."

"Why? Why can't I decide to stay Below?"

"Because … you and I … we belong Above. That's our world."

"Is it?" he demanded. "I don't know about you, but what I found here is what I've been fighting for all my life. Why should I go back and beat my head against a wall when I can have it all Below?"

"Because you can't have it. Joe, this isn't a place to live for people like us. For us it's a sanctuary. It's a place to come when we can't take our world anymore. But like any retreat, once it's done its job, we have to return to our own world – the world needs us."

"Why?"

She sighed. "Joe, what is the one thing our world needs more than anything else?"

"I don't know. I guess … a recognition of actual individual worth."

"And why is it you don't want to leave?"

"I guess … because … Cathy, this place is like a dream! The way the people act … what they think … how they treat each other. It's everything I've always wanted my world to be."

"That's why we have to go back. We have to take that dream Above and we have to share it – with everyone we come in contact with. And we have to know that, if we ever need it, this world is here, waiting for us, to help us re-center ourselves."

"But I'm afraid that if I leave … it will disappear."

She shook her head. "No. There are a lot of Helpers who work very hard to make sure that this world survives. They're up there, helping to spread the dream, until … maybe … one day … the two worlds can merge."

"Do you really think that's possible?"

"I have to. It may be the only hope Vincent and I ever have of being truly together."

He looked at her and blinked several times. "I … I forgot! Being with him, you forget that he's … really a captive here."

"I know," she agreed sadly.

"What if … I mean if I … wanted to see someone … someone who lives Below …"

She smiled. "Rebecca isn't a captive. She can come Above if she wants."

"Could I … I'd like to become a Helper."

Vincent walked up to them and stood beside Catherine. She looked up at him.

"Joe's asked about becoming a Helper."

Vincent nodded. "The Council has already discussed that possibility. We'd be happy to instruct you in our rules and what would be required of you if you became a Helper." He told Joe, then smiled at Catherine, "Of course, it's difficult for someone to become a Helper when he has badly disappointed a member of the community."

"Wha … Who?" Joe demanded.

Pretending to ignore Joe, Vincent continued talking to Catherine. "Do you know, it appears that Joe has been … occupying a great deal oftime ofone ofour members? And yet tonight, she has been left … sitting alone … with no one to dance with her."

Joe chuckled as he realized he was being teased. "Yeah? Well, you have to remember this community is still fairly new to me. I'm not sure what all of the rules are. I was just following your example, pal. I hadn't noticed you dancing with Cathy either."

Catherine laughed with delight. "I believe he has you."

Vincent cocked his head. "Touché," he said with a slight smile.

Vincent caught the eye of one of the musicians and gave a small nod. He held his hand down to Catherine.

"Catherine."

She put her hand in his. As he led her onto the dance floor, the lively tune the musicians had been playing came to an end. They started a beautiful, lilting waltz. Vincent took Catherine in his arms, and they began to glide among the other dancers.

Joe walked over to where Rebecca sat. He held out his hand to her.

"I'm afraid I've been wrapped up in my own feelings tonight and have neglected you. Will you give me a chance to make it up to you? Will you dance with me?"

She smiled prettily. "I'd love to dance with you."

Joe took Rebecca onto the dance floor and they joined the waltzing couples.

"I'm sorry if I've upset you tonight," he told her. "I'm afraid I'm having a hard time … dealing with having to leave tomorrow. I … I don't want to go."

She looked up at him through her lashes but made no reply.

"I've asked Vincent if I could become a Helper."

"Really?" She smiled. "I'm glad."

"Does that mean that I can see you again?" he asked.

Her smile broadened. "It means you'd better."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Vincent and Catherine stood on the mezzanine, watching the people who were still in the main chamber, below them. Some members of the community had already left for the evening. Many were still talking and dancing and enjoying themselves.

"Joe and Rebecca seem to be enjoying themselves now," Catherine commented.

"Yes," Vincent agreed.

"Do you think he can really become a Helper?"

"I believe he'll make an excellent Helper. Who knows … there may come a time … when he will take your place Above … and you will come Below."

She looked at him, her soul's yearning was expressed in her eyes. He took hold of her hand, and without another word he escorted back to his own chamber. As they entered the chamber, she turned to him and started to speak. He held up a hand for silence. He took his large chair and carried it out into the tunnel. She watched from the chamber as he turned the chair on its side and laid it across the tunnel. He straightened and returned to her.

She smiled. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Trying for a little bit of privacy. Perhaps this will be enough of a hint for anyone who comes looking for us."

She laughed and put her arms around his neck allowing him to hug her tightly.

"And what do you think we need privacy for?" she asked.

He looked deeply into her eyes. "Tonight it isn't need. Tonight I simply … _want_ you … all to myself."

Her eyes misted over. "Just when I think I know you … just when I think I know how romantic you can be … you still surprise me."

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Vincent reached out and touched something on the tunnel wall. The steel shield door slid open to reveal a grill. Catherine pushed on it and it swung open on silent hinges. The two of them and Joe walked through the opening.

"This will lead you out into Central Park," Catherine told Joe.

"Me? Aren't you coming?"

She shook her head. "Not now. I've decided to stay Below this weekend, but I'll be back in the office Monday morning."

"Monday morning?" Joe said the two words as if he had never heard them before. He blinked several times, as if waking up from a deep sleep. "What day is this? How long have we been down here, Radcliffe?"

"Two weeks. It's Saturday morning."

"Two weeks? How will we ever explain just … dropping out of sight for …"

"One of our Helpers has been in touch with your people," Vincent interrupted. "He's a doctor. He told them that you and Catherine had been brought to his sanitarium, that you had been injured in the shootout and that he cared for you both. You could not leave, nor could you have visitors. He told them that if you were not sequestered as the other patients were it would cause problems. That way, he was able to keep your true whereabouts quiet."

Joe shook his head in amazement. "I really don't believe you people." He hugged Catherine. "I'll see you on Monday." He turned to face Vincent. "I truly don't know what to say to you." He grinned. "Hell, I truly don't know if I even believe that you really exist."

Vincent chuckled.

"I'd like to think that Narcissa was right," Joe continued. He held out his right hand. "I'd like to think that someday you'll call me friend."

Vincent took Joe's hand in his. "I'd like to think I can call you that now."

The two men shook hands. Joe took a step back and Vincent placed his arm around Catherine. Joe looked at them.

"These last two weeks have been the most amazing days of my life. I hope the three of us can spend time together again. Goodbye, Vincent." He grinned broadly and gave her a slight bow. "Catherine."

She smiled tenderly. "That's the first time you've ever called me Catherine."

Joe shrugged. "Better late than never. I think that's how I'll think of you from now on – when I think of you here Below."

He started out through the tunnel as she and Vincent waved goodbye to him.

C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V-C-V

Catherine was greeted by coworkers as she made her way to her desk Monday morning. She was removing her jacket as Joe hurried from Moreno's office to his own.

"Radcliffe!" he called as he moved past her cubicle.

She hurried into his office, closing the door behind her as she entered. On Joe's desk was a huge stack of file folders.

"I don't think anyone did any work the whole time we were gone!" he exploded. "Moreno expects me to have these cases cleaned up by the end of the week." He grabbed a large number of them from the top and handed them to her. "Here – get started."

She gave him a look of mock horror as she took them. "Welcome back to work!" she teased as she started to open the door.

"Cathy?"

"Huh?" She turned back toward him.

"Was it real?" Joe asked, puzzlement on his face.

"How do you feel – deep inside?"

He thought a moment. Gradually a contented smiled spread across his face and lit his eyes. He nodded

"Yeah," he said slowly.

She returned his smile.

"Yeah," she agreed as she closed the door on her way out.

The End


End file.
